By a Thread: A Grumpy Boss Romantic Comedy

Charming: I am so bored I might set this place on fire just to stay awake.

Me: Poor baby, in beautiful sunny Los Angeles surrounded by beautiful people wearing beautiful clothes.

Charming: What are you wearing?

I laughed.

And caught the side-eye Nelson sent me from behind the wheel.

I held up my phone. “Dominic from LA. He’s grouchy.”

Nelson’s mouth twitched under his mustache. Dominic had assigned him to Driving Miss Ally duty while he was gone. We were on our way home from my evening dance class that Nelson had politely declined to attend and instead had waited in a coffee shop one block down.

Me: A parka. You’re missing out on the cold snap to end all cold snaps.

It was a frigid Friday night, and Dominic had been gone for four days for LA’s Fashion Week. I didn’t think it would be a big deal. Six days away? Pfft. No problem. I had plenty to keep me occupied. And I hadn’t had the guy in my life for so long that I was used to having him around. Right?

Big fat wrong-o, buddy.

I missed him aggressively, obsessively. I made tea every morning just because the smell reminded me of him. Every night before I left work, I walked up to Dom’s office and sat behind his desk because it felt like he’d walk through the door any minute. Hell, the practically inconsolable Brownie and I were both sleeping in Dom’s t-shirts. Me because I missed him and Brownie because it was hilarious.

In an effort to keep my mind off how much I’d missed him, I’d smuggled Brownie into my Dad’s nursing home, having him pose as a therapy dog. A therapy dog that ate a nurse’s roast beef sandwich when she wasn’t looking. I unashamedly blamed it on Mrs. Kramer, a known snack thief. I’d even gone with Faith to a video shoot for the online content team that Christian invited us to at his studio. Sparks were definitely flying between club owner and designer. Both of whom seemed to be playing a little hard to get.

But none of it made me miss Dominic less.

Charming: I wish I was there to keep you warm.

I sighed and fought the urge to clutch my phone to my heart.

The only things that made Dom’s absence almost tolerable were his hourly texts describing every detail of the trip. Fashion Week was a dream for some. For Dominic Russo, it was a nightmare. Endless shows, afterparties, and wardrobe changes. Red carpets everywhere. People whose names he was expected to remember and be impressed with.

Me: Question. Do you miss me or your vests more?

He hadn’t packed a single vest. For which I was eternally grateful.

So of course I’d entertained myself—and tortured him—by trying on his vest collection and sending him selfies while wearing nothing else but a glossy coat of lipstick. Checking all the photos and video footage to see if he had a visible erection from one of the pictures was my new favorite game.

Speaking of photos, Dominic hadn’t been photographed with his arms around any of the bevies of stunning models flooding the city. In fact, in every photo, he had a camera-thrilling scowl and both hands in his pockets. I hadn’t asked him not to hug beautiful women. But he’d refrained anyway.

I was starting to think the man liked me. Really, really liked me.

Of course, just to make sure I wasn’t feeling totally confident, there had been a handful of mentions of Dominic flying solo with the speculation that our relationship was on the rocks. The jabs felt almost personal, but I tried not to read too much into it.

My phone buzzed again.

Dominic: You in my vests. Next year you’re coming with me.

I felt a thrill rush through me that had nothing to do with the seat warmer.

Were we really talking about next year? Was I okay with that? I checked in with several of my organs. Yep. Most of them reported back with resounding hell yeses. My brain was a little more pragmatic. There were a lot of things still up in the air. I was still behind on the bills. The renovations were stalled until Dom came home since the man forbade me from going over there alone. It was one little carpet tack puncture and a tetanus shot. Dom acted like I’d been held up at gunpoint.

But it was only a matter of time until the house was done and on the market and… Okay. I was overthinking. We hadn’t defined what this was other than “a relationship,” and we certainly hadn’t talked about anything relating to the future.

Me: Count on it. I miss you.

Dominic: Good.

I woke early the next morning with Brownie’s warm furry body cuddled into my side and a figure looming over us both.

The dog and I were epic sleep partners. It took a lot to drag us from our slumber.

My confused screech and subsequent flailing to free myself of blankets and pillows roused Brownie, who grumbled lazily and did not leap into attack dog mode.

The laugh was soft and undeniably familiar.

“Dominic?”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my mouth. I didn’t care about morning breath or the fact that we were squishing Brownie. I just wanted to pull the man into bed.

“How? When? I thought you were staying for two more days? What time is it? Is everything okay?”

“So many questions,” he teased, running a hand down my side to squeeze my hip.

“Wait a minute. What day is it? Did Brownie and I accidentally sleep for two days?”

“It’s obscenely early Saturday morning. I took a red-eye. You have fifteen minutes to pack.”

“Pack?” I croaked.

This was a dream. One I was going to be really, really disappointed to wake up from.

“Pack,” he repeated with a grin. He looked tired too. “I’m whisking you away for the weekend.”

Brownie wriggled his way in between us and showed Dom his expectant belly.

“You, too, buddy,” Dom said, giving the dog the required pats.

I sat up. “Oh, my God. You’re really here. This is really happening!”

He laughed, and I threw my arms around him, raining kisses on his face and neck.

“Baby, I may never say these words again, but I really need you to get out of bed.”

I bounced on my knees, full of adrenaline. “Where are we going?”

“Stop asking questions. Stop jiggling,” he said to my breasts. “And start packing.”

My breasts and I quit jiggling and started packing. “Pack warm” was the only hint he gave me. On the other side of the bed, Dominic exchanged fashion-forward suits for warmer, cozier items. The sexy eye banging we were giving each other made me hope our destination involved a short ride and a very big bed.

Between it being somewhere around zero o’clock in the morning and the fact that I hadn’t had this man’s penis inside my body in five days, I was probably packing completely useless garbage. But I didn’t care. I was spending an entire weekend away with the man I l—iked. Liked.

Packed, zipped, and still eye banging, we hauled our bags downstairs, and Dom went to work packing Brownie’s food and treats that—God forbid—we didn’t give him at precisely 7 p.m. every night.

“Can you grab the book I left in the den?” he asked me.

I should have been suspicious. His tone was a little too casual, and when was the last time he’d read in the den? It was usually on the couch while I pinned home improvement projects to my Dad’s House board.

But I wasn’t thinking about any of that when I practically skipped into the small front room.

“Oh my God.” I stopped in my tracks. Brownie dashed into the room in front of me, nose to the ground, checking out the new smells. The couch and chair were missing. And in their place was a stunning, brand-new upright piano.

“Dom?”

His hands came to my shoulders. His chin to the top of my head.

“I know it’s not your dad’s,” he said while my mouth continued to open and close like a guppy. “The guy I brought out to the house took one look at that one and said it couldn’t be saved. But this model is supposed to be good.”

Oh, boy. The piano was blurring in front of me. Everything was blurring in front of me. Nope. No. No. No. I was not a cryer. I was a silent sufferer.

“Do you like it?” he asked softly.

The man bought me a piano. A very shiny, expensive piano. Just because I had good memories of my dad’s.

I nodded very slowly. “How did you get it in here?”

I heard the smile in his voice. “You and Brownie can sleep through anything apparently. Including early morning piano deliveries.”

My heart physically hurt with happiness.

I turned away from the piano and into Dom’s arms.

“I love… it. I love it.”

He cupped my face and kissed me so gently it made me go a little weak in the knees.

“I missed you this week,” he whispered.

“Good,” I said.